


feed me, spark me up

by crownedcarl



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Drama & Romance, Dreams and Nightmares, Gen, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Pining, Post-Series, Recreational Drug Use, Self-Destruction, Stripping, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships, i SWEAR this fic isn't pure sadness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-01
Updated: 2017-11-20
Packaged: 2019-01-07 10:31:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12231069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crownedcarl/pseuds/crownedcarl
Summary: Theo thinks about Liam and bites his fist until he draws blood, exhausted and exhilarated, holding Liam’s name in his bruised mouth.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> title credit from daughter's song touch! you guys probably didn't ask for this eccentric character study posing as a straight-forward fanfic, but here it is, anyway. keep in mind that the tags of this story reflect the themes that are present from start to finish, and that if any of the content could squick you out or trigger you, proceed with caution. i do love to hurt theo, don't i?
> 
> sorry if this comes off as slightly liam-bashing, but i promise it's not intentional! relationships in your teens are complicated; that's all i'm trying to convey, here.
> 
> another thing: as you might have noticed, this will be my first chaptered thiam fic! i can't promise it'll be very lengthy, but this fic would not work as a one-shot because of the abrupt changes in tone throughout the story, and i wanted to keep it separate to give myself some room to breathe. i'm pretty set on three chapters to wrap this story up, and will be adding relevant tags as we go!
> 
> this story was heavily influenced by the writings of richard siken, who i've referenced gratuitously throughout the fic. let me know if any tags need to be amended/added, and for now, enjoy!

Theo starts to dream about cages, early winter, and wakes up gasping for breath.

The night is dark, but there’s something soothing about the eerie quiet of the snowy streets outside. Nothing is alive but him, and the frantic pounding of his heart tears him out of the dream, strangled breaths ringing loudly in his ears, a cacophony of sound all around him.

He should be used to it, by now. The dreams about Tara have passed, but in their place came the tunnels and the darkness and the steel cages with their unbreakable bars, and every night, Theo’s feet end up running through twisted mazes with no end in sight, chasing something unseen.

Maybe there’s something his subconscious is trying to tell him, but Theo is tired of trying to figure it out. He rolls over, breath fogging up the window, and goes back to sleep.

-

Liam’s hair is getting long, curling loosely at the ends. Theo pretends his fingers don’t itch with the urge to reach out and touch.

He’s been pretending a lot, lately, his head hanging heavy with it.

“Theo,” Liam’s saying, his mouth open around his straw. Theo blinks back into reality, where he can’t reach across the table and put his hands where he wants them, smiling blandly. “Are you listening?”

“I’m all ears,” Theo mutters, “Unfortunately.”

He can tell Liam’s distraught. Theo knows what to look for; the subtle signs of strain and stress etching themselves into Liam’s forehead, creating cracks in his veneer. His smiles aren’t as bright, anymore, and Theo stabs at his food, vehemently denying the little flutter of concern in his chest, preventing it from growing any bigger. “Anyway,” Liam finally goes on, looking out the window every three seconds, “You should be there.”

“What, when you meet the alpha? No thanks,” Theo says, “I’d rather not.”

He’s not interested in a showdown with the newcomers. Partly, Theo doesn’t want to risk getting eviscerated by a pack with bigger numbers and an actual alpha to lead them, but another part of him is terrified of seeing Liam go down, unable to stand his ground.

Theo should stay away. He should. “Please?” Liam asks, eyes pale and wide, fragile winter frost stretching across a black lake. “I can’t do it alone.”

His willpower is a malleable thing in Liam’s hands. “Alright,” Theo groans, “Give it a rest, already. I’ll be there.”

The shame doesn’t come until later, after Liam’s gone and Theo’s alone. It takes so little, Theo muses, for Liam to drag him into battles he never signed up for, and Theo’s protests are all but perfunctory, by now. He says no to make himself feel better before the inevitable part where he caves in, letting Liam decide his fate.

He thinks about Liam, sometimes, naked beneath his blankets, shivering in the backseat as his hand travels past his stomach, past his bare hip, lower and lower. Theo thinks about Liam and bites his fist until he draws blood, exhausted and exhilarated, holding Liam’s name in his bruised mouth.

Theo makes it a prayer, sometimes. Liam’s the last thing he believes in, after all.

-

The crisp air in Theo’s lungs almost makes him feel as if he’s drowning, too heavy for his own body, sinking down, down, down. There’s a hand on his shoulder, there and then gone, Liam’s face reflected in the ice at their feet. He looks distorted, dreamlike. Theo makes himself look away.

“Don’t,” he tells Liam, because there are limits. For Liam, Theo will fight, and he’ll bleed, and eventually, he’ll die, but he won’t take Liam’s pity. “Let’s do this, already.”

He knows Liam is scared. Theo can’t blame him, but he puts his body in front of Liam’s and takes the first steps into the clearing, twigs breaking beneath his boots. There are five werewolves standing there, and Theo knows what the alpha must be sensing: the weakness in Liam, all those soft places begging to be destroyed.

Sometimes, Theo dreams that he swallows Liam’s heart to keep it safe, but Liam always asks for it back, and all Theo can present him with are empty hands.

He knows the two of them have to stand as a united front. There’s no room for petty infighting or tension. He breaks the silence before the other pack gets a chance.

“We’re here as a gesture of good faith,” Theo tells them, standing a half-inch closer to them than Liam. It’s a small difference, but a difference the alpha will notice. He’s counting on it. “What’s your business in Beacon Hills?”

The answer doesn’t matter. Theo needs them gone. There isn’t room for them where Theo’s finally laying down roots.

“I was expecting an alpha,” the woman says, the deep red of her eyes flashing. He shows her his teeth, in return; doesn’t back down from the threat. “Not a beta and whatever _you’re_ supposed to be, kid. I don’t take kindly to blatant displays of disrespect.”

“We don’t take kindly to strangers on our territory,” Liam retorts, “Especially not when bodies start dropping.”

 _We. Our territory._ Theo’s mouth goes dry.

He’s Liam’s hands. He’s Liam’s eyes. He’s Liam’s muscle, staring down the betas and tracking their minuscule movements, the shifting of their feet, the rush of blood throughout their bodies. He knows the signs of someone preparing to fight, and Theo’s shoulders tense. He wonders if Liam knows how bad this has gotten, already.

Breathe. In and out. It’s going to be over, soon.

The alpha doesn’t get her hands on Liam. Theo doesn’t let her, taking the first hit, going down hard, all the breath punched right out of him. Her frustration is pungent in the air, and Theo briefly glances back at Liam, deciding he can hold his own, and throws himself headfirst at the woman. Time begins to lose meaning, after that; spilling blood and having it spilled, it makes no difference to him. The thing that matters is that Liam stays standing.

There’s blood on Liam’s knuckles, all of them split. Theo can’t afford to pause in the middle of the fight and stare, but a deep, dark desire awakens, tugging at his gut. He wants to get his hands inside of Liam and drive their bodies together; he wants to beg for mercy, or absolution, whichever comes first.

The snow is splattered with blood when it all comes to an end. Two against five are bad odds, but Theo snarls, standing above the woman, his claws to her throat. He could end it in a second, but Liam’s watchful eyes are on his back, watching it all play out.

“All this,” the alpha pants, “For him?”

He protects what belongs to him. “He may not be an alpha,” Theo tells her, “But he’s _mine.”_

The words are still echoing in the clearing by the time he and Liam are alone in it. There’s a crushing grip on Theo’s arm, and Liam’s breathing heavily, mouth flat and bloodless. Theo waits for the explosion, but all that comes is a ragged “Don’t do that,” as Liam lets go, stepping away, the distance building up between them. “I don’t need you to.”

“But you need me,” Theo says, staring at the snowflakes clinging to Liam’s lashes, and wonders why it makes Liam flinch, walking away.

-

Theo doesn’t have enough space to breathe in Beacon Hills.

There’s something unbearable about the bright winter days and the cold air in his lungs. There’s something unbearable about Liam, too, with his hands becoming fluttering things, hesitating around Theo, never quite touching down. Liam’s touches don’t linger, anymore, and Theo’s living with a restless beast in his chest, begging to be seen, but Liam's eyes continue to skip over him.

Liam has a way of kissing him that makes Theo think he wants to get away from something unnameable - maybe himself, he thinks, but Liam never gives him a chance to voice it. 

There isn’t any tenderness left for Liam to give to him. He always gets the scraps, the open wounds.

“You don’t give a shit about me,” Theo whispers, his voice wavering on a laugh. “You really don’t, do you?”

There are other places he could go. There are endless destinations to discover, but Liam’s got his heart in a silver cage.

“I’m here,” Liam says, pulling back. “Aren’t I?”

It should be enough, Theo thinks, staring up at the dark ceiling. It should be enough.

“You are,” he agrees, and with his eyes closed, he could almost convince himself that neither one of them is doing this for all the wrong reasons, both of them trying to pretend that Theo’s someone else.

-

Theo knows that Liam looks at him and sees someone half-destroyed. Liam forgets things about him, sometimes; he looks at Theo and sees the spaces Liam's carved out for himself in Theo's body, the _give_ and the softness, but he forgets what Theo is capable of. He forgets that at any given time, Theo is the most dangerous thing in the room.

Something's not right about what Theo is doing, and it nags at him, a little voice in the back of his head shouting for attention, telling him to slow down, to stop letting Liam inside, deeper than anyone else ever gets. He can't stop doing it; living in the worst parts of reality, ruining himself, eroding to nothing at all each time Liam takes from him and doesn't give anything back.

The sickening thing is that Theo lets him, a part of him craving it, another softly whispering _I want more._ Liam steals him away, is the thing, into the night; he steals Theo away with his eyes, and with his mouth, and with the stilted gentleness of his hands all over Theo’s body.

Thinking about Liam makes Theo shudder. The enormity of his desire disgusts him.

-

Los Angeles, late evening. Theo meets men in bars.

He meets men with broad shoulders, men with beards; men that don’t remind him of Liam at all. Tonight, the man buying him drinks doesn’t care that Theo looks too young to be there, and Theo knows what the stranger thinks he is.

“I don’t want your money,” he says, “I want you to fuck me,” and the man obliges.

He doesn’t kiss them, not a single one. It’s enough, being held down and used, but the bruises heal too quickly. After everything that was going to happen has happened, Theo asks for the cab fare back to the motel, realizing later that he could have asked for more. The man couldn’t care less, either way.

-

The days he spends away, Liam doesn’t ask him where he’s been. He used to, before realizing he’d never get the answer he wanted, and Theo knows that if Liam asked for the truth, Theo would give it to him. Neither one of them wants that, and Liam stopped asking long ago.

“I worry about you,” Liam tells him, staring Theo down, letting his hands wander across bare chest and stomach, tense and shivering. “What are you doing to yourself?”

“Nothing I won’t survive,” Theo sighs, and Liam’s mouth dips lower, kissing him. All the things Theo meant to say are forgotten, lost between one breath and another.

-

It amounts to nothing, giving himself to Liam completely.

Liam doesn't see him. Theo drives in silence, pretending there isn't a chasm between them, staring straight ahead at the road. He wonders what would happen if he drove into a tree; he wonders if that could make him happy, dragging Liam down with him, but there's a lump in his throat and a stone in his stomach and he can't stand to think about it for a second longer.

"Hey," Liam says, his voice scratchy and soft. "Look. It's almost the full moon."

He points, one slender hand in the air, and Theo's eyes follow the lines of his fingers, the bumps of his knuckles. He's always looking at the wrong things.

"Yeah," Theo sighs, and makes himself turn away, jaw tight.

-

Slowly, slowly, winter begins to pass.

Liam is thawing with the frost. There's a light in his eyes that wasn't there, before, and Theo shuts his mouth before he says something stupid that could ruin everything; the words are there, in his mouth, but there's too much riding on the question on his tongue to risk voicing it.

He doesn't have to.

"I didn't mean to," Liam whispers, his mouth on Theo's jaw, their hands gliding all over each other. Theo's missed it, the pretense of gentleness. "Do you understand? I didn't mean to. I didn't want to use you."

There it is, the uncomfortable truth. Theo shakes his head. All of him is shaking. "You don't have to explain," he tells Liam, short and stilted. "I know what I am."

"What are you?" Liam sighs, one hand buried in Theo's hair, his expression turning to stone. "Tell me. What do you think you are?"

"Convenient."

There's a pause, the calm before the storm. Liam's eyes pin him in place. "Don't," he says, almost pained. There have been too many fucking _almosts_ for Theo to keep count, and he keeps shaking his head, because he knows. He knows Liam's guilt isn't for him. He wants to be told it's alright, that it doesn't matter, that Theo doesn't hurt the way other people do. Liam wants to be forgiven, and Theo's mouth is beginning to tremble.

Not now, he tells himself, not now. "Tell me I'm wrong," he asks, "Tell me I'm wrong, Liam."

He wanted to burn, when this all started. He wanted to feel Liam's hands on him and in him and around him, but something went wrong and Theo's tasting blood in his mouth, biting down on his tongue, because the hero he wanted fell so fucking far from the pedestal Theo placed him on that it hurts to look at Liam and realize that he wasted all his time for nothing.

He's given everything. Liam asked for too much.

"I thought it would be easier," he hears Liam say, "If I hated you. If it didn't mean anything. But it was still..."

"Yeah," Theo finishes for him, hands curling into fists. "It's easy, isn't it? Being the bad guy. You don't expect it to be painful."

Theo wanted to be wanted and Liam happened to get in the way, and it tears at him, the sad, simple truth of not being enough. Liam's red-rimmed eyes came too late; Theo's all out of sympathy.

"Tell you what," he says, his voice far too close to cracking, "Forget it ever happened. Forget about me. I'm not staying," and for the first time in a while, Theo lets himself breathe through the fear and conquer it.

There's no going back, now.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theo grits his teeth and drives, pretending there’s not a ghost in the passenger seat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS CHAPTER HAS BEEN REVAMPED/REWRITTEN/EDITED/WHATEVER YOU WANT TO CALL IT AS OF: 03/01/2018
> 
> i was horrifically dissatisfied with this chapter from the get-go and made an attempt at changing it after a long time of angsting about it, and i hope that anyone who's already read the previous version of this chapter will give the new edit a chance! i corrected some mistakes, fixed the syntax, added some new sentences, but nothing too pressing - aka you're not missing out on anything plot-related if you choose not to read this chapter again

Theo keeps his promises. He’s out of Beacon Hills by nightfall, leaving nothing but dust in his wake. The finality of it is anticlimactic; he’s always been good at disappearing and reinventing himself.

As a kid, he thought there’d be something grand and romantic to running away, but the truth is that it’s a dirty, lonely thing, driving past city limits and realizing nobody is going to stop him. Nobody’s going to try to bring him home, and Theo grinds his teeth at the thought.

He thought it would feel different, the part where he leaves for good, but all he feels is the gentle breeze through the open window. He could get lost in the soft voice coming from the radio, singing about strangers in the night, but he keeps his eyes on the road, wondering for a moment if Liam’s thinking about him, the way Theo’s thinking about Liam.

He hopes so. He hopes he breaks Liam’s fucking heart.

-

Anywhere will do, Theo remembers thinking, throwing his things into the backseat of the truck, but after the miles have started piling up, he realizes he doesn’t want the familiar and the comforting. He wants to start fresh, go somewhere nobody knows his name, and the big city with all its beautiful lights are calling to him as he approaches, but there’s only so far playing pretend will get him.

Liam is in Beacon Hills, but he’s in Theo’s fucking stomach, too, in his lungs with every breath he takes. It’s not difficult, washing away the scent of him, but memory is a tricky thing. It has a tendency to linger and dig its claws in when it’s not welcome, so Theo grits his teeth and drives, pretending there’s not a ghost in the passenger seat.

-

It takes time, sorting out the remnants of his life. Theo starts small; he finds a deserted parking lot to leave the truck, wandering off in search of a laundromat and a diner. He finds both within walking distance, and after gathering his clothes, he splurges on a plate of eggs, taking his coffee black. He couldn’t be farther from everything he’s ever known, and there’s something awful about it, the distance he’s crossed, the bridges he’s burned. When it comes down to it, though, Theo’s lived with worse.

He never expected to feel so crushingly alone, is the thing, but after he gets a few restless hours of sleep in, he’s hitting the streets again, searching for something he can’t put his finger on, thoughts tripping over each other as he considers his options.

Theo knows he could easily resort to stealing from people, living comfortably off of dirty money. Scott isn’t here to judge him, but he wonders what it would amount to, in the end, reverting back to the person he left behind. He’s not here to repeat his past mistakes, he tells himself, and keeps thinking. Limited options are still options, in the end, and Theo’s always been a survivor.

An honest living isn’t in the books, anymore, is what he finally realizes. Theo’s choices may be limited, but he makes do on the pitiful fistful of cash he brought with him to Los Angeles, and it pays for the odd meal here and there and a few shirts from the thrift store. He makes it stretch for a week, then two, before he gives up on trying to get himself a job at the local grocery stores and kiosks and ventures to the less legal side of the town. It fits him better, anyway, and he finds it remarkably easy to slip back into the cocky, smirking skin he used to wear before -

_Before._ No need to think about it too hard.

Around the corner from the diner is a brightly-lit street, and Theo wanders into the first club that seems marginally less shady than the rest. He takes in the room, the worn leather couches and wooden chairs, eyes drawn to the center stage where the janitor is finishing up his sweep. A combination of different scents assault him all at once; alcohol, sweat and blood.

“Not hiring,” the guy behind the bar says. He raises his head, looks at Theo, and chuckles “Never mind. Do you dance?”

Theo has always been an alarmingly efficient liar. He straightens his shoulders up from their slump, staring the guy down. “Yeah,” he mutters, “How’s the pay?”

“Depends,” the guy shrugs, tattooed biceps flexing under the flickering lights. “Pretty boys usually do alright. Depends on the day, the clientele, the alignment of the stars. Take off your shirt.”

A little laugh is torn from Theo. The guy looks a little dubious for a second, but he takes in Theo’s bare chest and shoulders with appreciation before motioning for him to turn around. “Pants, too.”

There’s nobody around, and Theo has worse things to be ashamed of than stripping down in a seedy club for a man ten years his senior. He stands there in his shoes and underwear, relieved when the guy sighs “You’re hired. Be back by ten, kid, and show me something that tells me you’re legal.”

The guy’s name is Craig. He shakes Theo’s hand, offers him a beer, and says “We’ll get along, pretty boy,” before Theo leaves.

-

Theo doesn’t toss his cellphone.

He knows he should, the second he gets to the city, but something inside of him clenches and aches at the thought of severing that one last connection to everything he ever wanted. He remembers all the times he thought about calling Scott, thumb hovering above the call button, and all the times after, wondering if Liam would pick up if he called.

Nobody’s going to come looking, and nobody’s going to track him down. He debates it for another minute, then turns his phone off, letting it fall back into his pocket. He left for a reason, he reminds himself. He’s never had time for regret.

He does think about it, though. Liam’s number is still in his contacts.

He thinks about calling, sometimes, and leaving Liam voicemails.

Theo doesn’t know what he’d say, but he says it to a dark, empty room in the middle of the night, his heart in his throat. _You were the single best mistake I ever made,_ he says. _I wish I never knew you,_ he says, and then laughs until the sound deepens, thick and helpless, into what’s almost a sob.

To nobody at all, Theo says _nobody ever fucked me better_ and starts to cry.

-

Before he goes on for the first time, Craig motions Theo to follow him into the back area of the club, to the dimly-lit dancers changing room. “First-timers usually get antsy,” he tells Theo, taking a cursory look at the fake ID Theo hands him, laughably claiming that he’s twenty-three years old. “I got something to fix that. Take the edge off.”

A morbid curiosity rises in him. Alcohol doesn’t affect him, but Theo’s strangely intrigued by the little pill resting in the center of Craig’s palm. He takes it, puts it on his tongue, and slowly pulls it back between his teeth. He should feel exposed, wearing nothing but shorts that barely cover anything, but there’s something glittering in Craig’s eyes that makes Theo bold.

He steps closer, looking up, toying with the end of Craig’s pale braid. “Got anything else for me?” Theo asks, “To take the edge off?”

In the cramped back room, Theo lets Craig suck him off, leaving him gasping. By the time he’s on stage, there’s nothing in his head but white noise.

-

It’s not bad, living the way he does. Craig’s got a pull-out couch and the rent’s cheap, made all the cheaper by Theo’s willing mouth, and he likes the guy enough not to mind the erratic hours and constant house parties.

The manager asks to see him on the second week of Theo dancing there. He pinches the meat of Theo’s arm between his fingers and grunts “Gotta lose at least half this muscle, kid. Twinks are all the rage these days,” and Theo figures it’ll be easy enough, considering he’s already living on two meals a day. He cuts it down to one, and by week four, the manager’s pulling him backstage for his paycheck, depositing a hefty roll of bills in Theo’s hand.

He hesitates, before he leaves. He feels like he should offer something, or wait for the demand to be made. The guy frowns at him. If Theo didn’t know better, he’d think he looked sad.

“You dance for me,” the guy snaps, “Nothing else. What the customers want you to do is between you and them. None of my business.”

“...thanks,” Theo manages, and then he’s out, seated at the bar in his hoodie and jeans, letting Craig pour him a shot, toasting to nothing at all.

-

Theo’s got more free time on his hands than he knows what to do with. The late, long hours keep his body occupied, but his mind is horrifically present when the daylight is streaming through the blinds in Craig’s apartment, forcing him to confront the ugliest parts of himself.

He thinks about the Dread Doctors. He thinks about the people he shared a false home with for years, and realizes in hindsight that he was never the mastermind.The Dread Doctors did their part and kept him afloat on a generous allowance. The seamless transition from city to city and school to school, when necessary, was aided by having Jennifer and Oscar to play his stand-in parents, because being stuck with Theo was always preferable to the other option, the one where they’d end up behind bars for the rest of their pitiful lives.

He shared a home with a man who raped and a woman who loved to watch. It sickens Theo, years after the fact, because maybe he was always a monster, but he lived with people capable of worse things than Theo’s ever imagined.

It stuns him, now, who he was content living with. Theo feels the weight of his own naivete as sharply as a knife to the chest, bile building in his mouth. For a brief second, he lets himself laugh, because even then, even facing down those two, Theo realizes that in the end, he’s always been the worst kind of monster in the room.

-

Craig stumbles into the room, drunk, collapsing beside Theo on the couch. His breath is humid; he tastes of tequila when Theo slips his tongue in his mouth, carding his fingers through dirty blond hair, not used to having so much to hold on to.

He’s done a lot of things for Craig, but he’s never let things get out of control. Theo knows where to draw the line. He smacks Craig’s hand away from his hip, not letting him reach for his zipper. Falling asleep in today’s clothes wasn’t a great idea, but Theo’s exhausted down to the bone, and he doesn’t have the time to be gentle with the rejection. “God,” Craig groans, eyes bloodshot and still lovely, “Who messed you up, man?”

And, suddenly, Theo can’t breathe. He sits upright, back at an angle to Craig, and wonders if it’s worth telling his woefully unremarkable sob story to the one guy who doesn’t give a shit about who he used to be.

“There was a guy,” Theo confesses, squeezing his eyes shut, “It doesn’t matter. It didn’t work out.”

He can hear Craig muttering, _shit_ and _fuck_ and _I gotta hurt somebody?_ all in that drunken slur. It makes him smile, surprisingly, and makes it easier to roll over and fit his body up against the skinny one on the mattress. “I guess you must’ve loved him,” Craig yawns, “That’s too bad. You and me, baby, that’s the way to go,” and he laughs when Theo covers his mouth, glaring.

“Do you want to fuck me or not?”

“Baby,” Craig gasps, “I’d be happy to.”

-

The club is packed on Saturday nights. Theo’s not on for another hour, but he doesn’t mind sitting at the bar and watching Craig pour him increasingly complicated drinks, some of them neon-colored, some of them foul-smelling. It feels oddly domestic, leaning across the bar to be heard, but Theo’s not an idiot or a lovesick teenager. He knows where the two of them stand, but it’s still kind of cool, having someone there to listen and give a shit when Theo thought he’d never experience it again.

“Hey,” Craig whisper-shouts, nudging Theo’s shoulder, his mouth hot against Theo’s cheek. “At the back, you see the suits?”

Craning his head, Theo gets the two guys Craig’s yelling about in his eyeline. “What about them?” he asks, pulling a face when Craig shoves the spout of a vodka bottle against his lips, taking a sip. “Regulars?”

“Pay the big bucks, too. You’ll dance for them,” Craig grins, “Maybe do a little more than dancing, if you’re up for it, and take home a fat fucking stack of bills.”

Something must be wrong inside his head, because Theo scans the guys again, shrugs, and turns back to Craig with a lofty “Yeah, why the hell not?” and makes himself scarce, heading backstage to change.

The neon lights used to hurt his eyes. You can adapt to anything if you endure it long enough, Theo tells himself, and winces from the loud sobbing coming from the doorway.

There are girls dancing tonight, too, crowding the changing room. One of them is crying, messing up her makeup, and the other girl beside her is too busy sucking on a cigarette to give a damn. Theo ducks behind the divider, finding his outfit, and doesn’t startle when the dark-haired girl sticks her head in and says “Hey, you want some?” and holds up a little baggie.

Suspicion: that’s where his mind goes, first. Even dubious kindness is something to be wary of, but the girl has a bright smile and red lips and Theo realizes that there’s never been a more perfect time to be reckless.

It’ll be out of his system in a matter of minutes, Theo reasons, and says “What do you want in return?”

Her smile is all danger and mirth, but there’s a softness in her eyes that reminds Theo of all the things he wants to forget and leave in the past; he doesn’t have time for other people’s fragile bodies and sad stories. “A smile,” she tells him, “I’m Victoria.”

Theo obliges and smiles for her, and he lets her kiss him with bright red lipstick, leaving a stain across his mouth. “You first,” she whispers, and Theo’s laughter feels genuine for the first time in a while. The pill fizzles on his tongue, dissolving to nothing at all, and Theo can’t quite get enough of it: the weightless feeling of non-existence, his body blurring at the edges, whisper-soft beneath slim hands.

Not the hands he wants on him, Theo thinks, before everything turns muddled.

-

Craig asks about Theo’s life _before_ everything went to shit and he found himself in a place so far removed from home that not even the night sky looks the same. He makes guesses, sometimes; figures that Theo got the hell out of dodge after his supposed boyfriend cheated on him, and then tries to console Theo by saying it’ll work out, somehow, that _that fucking guy_ will get his shit together and realize what he’s missing out on.

Craig says that whoever he is, it’s not stupid for Theo to get angry, imagining other people with Liam, but the thing is -

Everyone expects Theo to be jealous instead of relieved to finally have Liam’s hands off him.

-

Theo is in the back of a cab and Victoria is placing a pill between his teeth, and despite the hours of clubbing that he’s been through, he recognizes that the capsule is filled with a distinct purple that Theo recoils violently from. Given the circumstances, he bares his teeth enough for her to flinch, but her smile is tenacious. “People like us,” she whispers, “Don’t always fit in. Don’t you want to feel human, Theo?”

Briefly, he wonders what she is - can’t pick up a scent, can’t pinpoint anything physical, because Victoria has always been willowy and breakable and relentlessly, unerringly human, but she’s staring at him with pale blue eyes and something in Theo recognizes that muted fear, terrified of being rejected.

He stays quiet, wondering what the hell she’s talking about. But he knows what she isn’t saying, deep down - she’s asking if he doesn’t sometimes want to feel alive, fragile, doesn’t he want to feel a little broken in ways that aren’t fleeting, the way everyone else is? - and Theo isn’t thinking when he whispers “Is it worth it?” to her and sees her brittle smile brightening.

“Honey,” she whispers in his ear, “It’s better than being _this_.”

-

Theo is great at playing games.

He’s a creature of habit, though, and in hindsight, that might have been his downfall. Toying with Liam was meant to be a dark, dirty thing to force him out of his head, but Liam caught on too quickly. He learned to play the game, too, and Theo wishes that he could hate him for that.

It’s his own fault, things ending. Liam was wide-eyed innocence when Theo met him, but months later, after the careful guidance of Theo’s hands and mouth and tongue, Liam’s expression was all but unreadable in those sacred twilight hours, his skin bared to Theo, but still holding everything inside.

Fucking Liam was heavenly. It was the dirtiest thing Theo’s ever done, and he remembers keenly how Liam’s mouth had pursed, his lashes fluttering against his cheek, the exhale of breath. _I want to know why,_ he’d muttered, scratching Theo’s shoulders. _I want to know why you keep doing this to yourself._

He never got his answer, did he? Theo would sooner kill himself than admit it, clenching his jaw tight enough to splinter his fucking teeth while the words scratch at the back of his throat, trying to flee.

The closest thing he’s ever felt to love was in that moment; with Liam, staring up at him, glassy-eyed and flushed. Nothing since has ever felt the same.


End file.
